A Pokémon One-Shot Collection
by Jeremy Hillary Boob
Summary: A collection of short One-Shots about different pokémon species, based on their pokédex entries.
1. Black bird of doom

**Hello and welcome to this fic. As its title suggests, it consists on a series of unconnected One-Shots, all about a different pokémon. Hope you enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own pokémon.**

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><p>The moon shone above the forest. Narrow beams of her weak light pierced trough the tops of the trees until they met the bark or the forest floor, leaving small patches of light there where they fell. No sound could be heard, except for the distant howls of a Houndour pack. Most of the forest pokémon were already asleep inside their burrows, and those who took advantage of the night to look for food didn't dare to make even the quietest of sounds. The ones which were preyed upon, to go unnoticed; the hunters, to trick their food into a false sense of security that would make them more vulnerable and prone to making mistakes.<p>

Suddenly, the silence of the forest was broken when a young male human appeared. His screams of panic echoed through the trees, awaking the sleeping pokémon and drawing to him the gazes of the ones who were already awake; who wondered what could possibly have happened for him to be so terrified and to give out such horrified silently watched him as he ran in fear between the trees as fast as if a pack of Houndour was chasing him with the intention of turning him into their dinner.

The answer they were awaiting for came only a few seconds after, when a Murkrow flew behind the human, turning here and there on her path to avoid colliding into a tree. She wore a look of concern on her face, and every few seconds she would caw a worried plea for the human to stop running and listen to her, which always went ignored.

The forest pokémon watched the scene in surprise, and, as soon as it ended, they went back to hunting or avoiding the hunters. That had surely been unexpected, they thought. What on Earth could have possesed that human to make him reject the aid that Murkrow was offering him? But the answer to that question was one they could live without. Gathering food and surviving another night was far more important.

The human, however, did concern the Murkrow. She had belonged to a trainer for a few years, until she had been freed by her trainer just before her death; and those few years she had spent living with her trainer had given her a liking for the human species, as well as respect for them and the way some of them treated pokémon, and also a willingness to help them whenever she saw a troubled human. But she didn't understand why he was running away from her in panic and shouting to leave him alone.

"Follow me!" she cawed once more. She had lost count of how many times she had said it, but she didn't mind. She was going to get this human to safety, even if it killed her. "Follow me if you want to find the way."

"Leave me alone, you evil monster!" the boy cried, daring not to look behind him. He was determined not to follow her, no matter what happened. Nothing could be worse than following a Murkrow in the dead of night, his grandma had always warned him. "You've already brought me the worst of lucks; and I will not let you lead me to doom, you damned bird of evil."

Surprised, and a bit hurt by the insults of the boy, the Murkrow continued flying forward. Ignorant of what the humans told to each other about her species, she was unable to understand why he had reacted in that way to her presence.

Why was he so afraid of her? She had done nothing to him. If only she could speak human tongue and make him understand she meant no evil and only wanted to help him. But she couldn't, and that left her only with the option of insisting until he accepted her help.

"You don't understand," she cawed in a worried tone. "I'm only trying to help you. Why are you running from me?"

"Back off, you filthy demon!" the boy shouted, still running from the Murkrow. "You will not confuse me by playing innocent. I know what you Murkrow are up to."

"But what on Earth is he talking about?", she thought. She didn't mean any harm to him. She only wanted to guide him through the forest to safety. She didn't know what humans thought of her species, and now that she had discovered humans feared and loathed them she didn't want to know.

"I don't want to doom you!" she cried in desperation, her hopes of him listening to her quickly diminishing. "Please, stop and turn around!"

But once more the boy paid no attention to her and did not slow down his race. He turned his head briefly to see if the Murkrow was still behind him, and then he quickened his pace, jumping over a tree root and passing between two thick tree trunks.

A feeling of fear washed over the pokémon's small body when she realised which way the boy was heading. With a look of resolution on her face, she forced herself to fly faster. She had to get past the boy and force him to turn around. If she couldn't... She cringed. She didn't want to think about what would happen then.

"Stop and turn around!" she cawed in a powerful shout, and then rushed to position herself in front of him.

Unfortunately, her powerful cry made the boy turn around in fear; and when he realised the Murkrow was coming for him his eyes widened in fear and he let out a piercing scream. His mind became filled with the desire of running away from her; and he sped up, wishing he could outrun the pokémon.

A few yards in front of him, he saw a wall of small bushes interrupting his way. But he wouldn't let them obstruct him. With a smile of confidence on his face, he stretched his right leg and jumped over the plants.

"No!" the Murkrow cried, but it was already too late.

A horrifying scream broke the silence of the night. It was very loud at first, but it quickly faded away, as if the one who had let it out was quickly moving. As soon as it reached the Murkrow's ears, grief washed over her body, and tears came to her eyes. She then flew past the bushes, and over the horribly deep cliff that opened just behind them. She didn't even try to see into the darkness and look for the boy. She knew it was pointless. There was no possible way he could have survived a two hundred and sixty feet fall.

With tears freely flowing from her eyes, she perched on one of the bushes and continued crying, her closed and tear-covered eyes pointing to the night sky, to the stars she couldn't see. She felt so horrible...

Why did he have to die? It utterly pained her to see such a young human die in front of her eyes. So many broken dreams, so many shattered hopes, so many years ahead of him that now would never be lived...

Why did it have to end like this? Why didn't he listen to her? Why did he go on running? Why was he so afraid of her?

So many questions through her brain, and not a single answer to any of them.

Her intention was to help him. Why did he reject her help and say something about her bringing doom to him?

The moon shone in the sky as the Murkrow drowned herself in a sea of unanswered questions. What could possibly made him react that way? What was that he had said about her bringing doom to him? Could that be why he ran away in panic?

Suddenly, she felt a stabbing pang of guilt in her gut. Could it have been her fault? Could she really be responsible for his death? Even if she had a completely different purpose, in the end she had ended up doing what he feared.

Was she to blame for his death?

She didn't know. She didn't know if she wanted to know.

The Murkrow shook her head energically in an attempt to get the tears out of her eyes, and then she took flight into the forest. The boy would certainly not be the last human to get lost in the forest; nor would he be the last one to walk towards the cliff. And that meant that is was very likely that some clueless human suffered the same destiny.

And there was where she came on the scene. She would be the one to avoid any more similar deaths. Now she knew that humans feared her. Now she knew humans fled from her. And that was something she could take advantage of.

She would give chase to the humans who wandered too near from the abyss, and at the same time make threm run in fear until they found a safe way into a human town.

It was the least she could do after making that poor boy fall to his death.


	2. Curse of the curse bringers

Humans seem to love us Ninetales. They love the vulpine shape of our body. They love our white, stainless fur, the way it shines and glistens under the light. They also love our innate elegance and the way we display it, both in a contest and in the middle of a pokémon battle. There is only one thing humans don't like of a Ninetales: its nine pristine tails.

Well, maybe I'm exaggerating it. Of course they like our tails. I've heard a lot of compliments towards them, mostly by young female humans who would then pat me in the head and stroke the fur on my back. Some of them would be a bit more adventurous, scratching my neck and tickling my belly. But none of them ever dared to get their hands near one of my tails.

That's due to the legend; that old tale that assures that he who grabs a Ninetales's tail will be struck by a thousand year long curse. Every human knows it, even babies out of their cribs. Some humans think that it's not true, maybe because it's a very old legend. But as a Ninetales, I must say that the legend is actually true. Should somebody be foolish enough to grab one of our tails, horrible luck and non-stop hardships will befall them and their descendants until a millenium has passed, or until their family has vanished from Earth. But the bit about us acting as mere spectators, looking at them from the distance while sadistically enjoying the punishment they brought upon themselves, is completely untrue. I know some of us do, but the majority of our kin are not happy-go-lucky curse bringers. A millenium-long curse is a horrible weight on a family's shoulders; one we never like to put.

What very few humans know, however, is that there is something more to the legend. And that is that, in reality, only those who knowingly and disregarding the consequences decide to grab a Ninetales' tail are afflicted by our curse. Those who don't know about it, touch one of our tails by accident or that we trust, will be spared. And my own trainer is a perfect example of this. Every time she grooms me, she also grooms my tails. And to do that, she must hold them in her hands. But nothing has ever, nor will ever, happen to her; since I trust her and I know she only does it for me to be clean and look my best.

But we Ninetales are not only curse bringers. That is not the whole truth about our species. For there is something about our kin that no outsider knows.

That we Ninetales, the feared and revered curse bringers, sport a curse of our own in the form of a thousand-year-long life.

I know humans would kill for such a long lifespan. I've heard some of them talking how they'd like to live forever and be eternally young. Some even said they envied us Ninetales for living such a long time.

But I strongly doubt they'd do if they knew the hard truth about us.

For we Ninetales loathe our lifespan. We loathe it for what it implies.

Most pokémon live for a few years. We do not. We live for many centuries. And that means we have to part with everyone dear to us. Our trainers, our mates, even our children and grandchildren. We are condemned to experience the deaths of everyone we loved, knowing that nothing can be done to avoid them, and that we will be forced to endure the same feelings time and again with no chance of ever escaping the cycle until our lifespan is finally over.

And that is utterly devastating. To watch every pokémon or human I loved die, and specially to know that it will go on happening, that I will go on living while everyone I knew dies, one by one.

It breaks my heart everytime it happens. It truly does. It is a horrible feeling, one that crushes my heart and makes me hate myself and my life. But I am forced to go on. To go on because of those near to me. I know they wouldn't have liked me giving up on centuries of life to escape the regret and heartbreak.

To go on while the ones around us slowly disappear. Such is the curse of the Ninetales' kin.

But soon, I will break free from it. At eight hundred and forty six years old, there isn't much time left for me.

And that gives me hope. And it even makes every new death a teeny bit more bearable.

Because deep down, I know that every second the day draws nearer.

The day I will finally be free from my own thousand-year-long curse.


End file.
